Players have already been chosen for this roleplay, and this thread is simply for them to post their Characters once it has been Okayed by me privately.If you would like to join this roleplay, some slots may open up in the future. Give me a PM, should you wish to put your name down as a possible participator

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The province of of Terenis, of who's capital is Terelar, is indeed only a small province mainly of farmers and woodworkers. It is a place where folk reside in their usual day-to-day routine, for little of excitement happens in Terenis.One particularly cold night at the border of the town of Cuedrim, however, Farmer Ganalos Thundrim Awoke to an odd sound outside his window. A curious Trilling hoot which he eventually identified as the Khadore owl. What was curious though, was the fact that such owls are known to live only in dense forests, whereas nearly the entire province of Terenis was dry grasslands.The farmer arose from his bed and made his way to the door of his cottage, stepping out to investigate this sound. What he saw astonished him. His carrot-patch extended a good thirty meters ahead, their green leaves tracing forth before disappearing in the darkness, the moon hidden above the canopy of a large dark-barked tree. A row of trees stretched for as far left and right as the farmers eyes could see. A dense, dark forest had arisen out of barren grasslands in the space of one night, and with the strange appearance of this enormous anomaly came a sense of unease to the townsfolk of Cuedrim.

Word spreads fast in the lands and now, Several weeks later, The town of Cuedrim - resting on the border of the mysterious forest - has become home to many travellers of all sorts. From Shady figures sitting in the darkness at night, watching the forest from the edge, to Rowdy adventurers, come to sight-see and sample some of the fine ale Cuedrims only tavern has. Whatever the type of traveller, all have come to see the forest, though none dare to enter.The forest has swallowed several neighboring towns to Cuedrim, and in the weeks after its appearance, no survivors have exited the forest from the dirt path. The Mayor of the border-town has decided that it is time to act. Notices have been nailed to walls and fliers sent out to many of the adventurers in town. Now is the time to finally send people into the forest for three main purposes: To Scout, To find the neighboring towns and their survivors, and to perhaps find a way to send this forest back from whence it came.

Welcome to my first completely GMed semi-freeform roleplay In this roleplay, I will be taking the role of the omniscient GM, and will have no main character, although I shall take control of several NPCs. There are several rules which I would like to lay down for prospective participaters of this roleplay.

It is a condition of playing that you accept to all of these without complaint. - No Munchkinism, God-moding or powergaming. In terms of magic, no Insta-kills or Cure-alls.

- Though I'll be lenient, Players ARE able to die. If your character dies, take it without complaint. It is NOT a slight on you, your roleplaying ability or anything else, and neither am I playing favourites.

- I will have NO tolerance for abuse on anyone elses roleplaying ability, and will have NO tolerance for complaints about other people. In accordance with this rule, I will expect everyone to play to the best of their abilities, and to be sure to reread everything they've posted to be sure that it makes sense, is spelled correctly, and is logical.

- I reserve the right to Edit someone elses post without warning for any reason. This is NOT so I can change someones post to suit me, but rather to fix any large spelling or grammatical errors, remove or modify an irrational or undoable action, or to remove or modify a post which conflicts with any of the rules.

- No controlling other players. This includes posting an action or response of an action for a character which is not your own in your post.

- I reserve the right, as GM, to control players actions for any reason. This is not to take control of the game, but to keep the game flowing.

- Though it is in a fantasy world, players may only play as humans. Fantasy creatures are rare and seldom seen. There are such things as elves, but they are known only across the great sea, and are rumored to be evil creatures, expending human lives for that of nature. You may not play as an elf. There are no known dwarves, gnomes or humanoids of other sort. This rule MAY be excepted if I am contacted prior to the beginning of the game and accept what you wish to make.

- Magic users of any sort must read and play by the Magic guide, which is as follows.

Magic guideMagic in this world is extremely rare, though players are able to play as spellcasters. Divided in two lines and named by the humans, they are Pure Magic and Occult Magic.Pure MagicPure magic is described as magic which humans wield. Humans without access to magic tend to be very wary and mistrustful of magic wielders. Every human spellcaster is marked with a tattoo on the back of their left hand of an image of a snake fang, with a droplet of liquid beading at the tip. Players may not play as an unmarked mage, though they are allowed to hide the tattoo, should they wish.Pure magic is similar to Telekinesis in effect, in that it is able to be used to manipulate the world around them physically.Examples of this can be to convince parted flesh to stitch back together, to coax the eyes of people shut temporarily, to lift small pebbles and stones and hurl them with the aid of their magic and so forth. There are no strict spells, as such. There are great magi in the world who can raze buildings and uproot trees with their power, but nobody this powerful has come to investigate the forest. You may not play as someone this powerful.Occult MagicOccult magic, simply, is described as something which humans cannot wield. It is the magic of evil. the magic of the unknown and of the devilish creatures which live deep in caves and where it is dark and unknown. Occult magic is hardly known to exist, and most people use it as fables to scare their children to sleep. However, occult magic IS real, if rare. Occult magic is able to manipulate objects, like Pure magic, however it is able to do so much more. Occult magic can alter effects of people, summon and create creatures both known and unknown, conjure elements from thin air and all other things which defy reality. Humans cannot wield Occult magic, and neither can players.

Roleplayers - Though I will be lenient with death and the like, it is still a possibility. Although one or two NPCs will be with your party. They will be your 'lifelines' as such. If possible, I will let them die first. ^^

Born to a race of costal barbarians called Snake Riders on account of their rearing of bizzare amphibious serpents that they sometimes rode into war,Klanu was the son of a minor warrior and a female bard. When his father died in a raid on a rival tribe when he was just 3,the burden of raising him fell squarely on his mother's shoulders. Though she mourned deeply for her husband initially,she soon realized that she had to be strong for her son and raise him as best as she could. Fortunately,she could this do with no great difficulty,as her profession as a bard allowed her to earn a comfortable income. By and large,childhood was a mostly happy time for both son and mother,with little Klanu receiving some training in his mother's vocation and showing great promise at it.

There was a problem with this kind of upbringing,though. Klanu had no father figure,with most of his older male relatives too busy with families of their own to pay much attention to him and those men that his mother took into her bed,were the sort of characters he would prefer to have nothing to do with,vapid seducers all of them. This resulted in Klanu lacking most of the male machismo so prevalent in the rough society of his tribe,since he had no role model to try and ape. What he got instead,was a deep sensitivity,both towards the feelings of others and his own,the natural outcome of a childhood where the closest person to him could teach him nothing of being a man. This quality would have been excellent in a woman no doubt,but in a man of his tribe it could lead to only one thing:social sucide.Of course this scarcely bothered him as a child,since he had his mother and some of the ummarried women of the tribe to lavish attention on him.

It was with great reluctance then,that upon growing up into an adolescent male and realizing that his mother wanted more time with her lovers now that she felt her responsibilties as a mother were over,Klanu reluctantly joined the world of manhood. To no one's suprise,least of all his own,the welcome he got there was hardly warm.Often finding himself the butt of many a joke,due to his somewhat effete nature,Klanu withdrew into his shell and soon found himself avoiding the other young males to escape their insults and taunts. It was not lost on him that a true man would have redeemed himself by challenging one of the bullies to a fight,but his very soul found itself revolted by the needless violence that would arise from a foolish duel between two youngsters. And in truth,most of his concern was reserved for his tormentors. Training diligently with his axe,while the others were off drinking themselves stupid at the tavern or trying to get into bed with the brewmaster's attractive daughter,he developed a fighting skill that easily surpassed theirs.No,he would show those drunk animals what kind of warrior he was in a real battle,as opposed to their tavern brawls.

The long awaited chance to prove himself came 4 years later,when he had just turned 19.The chieftain of his tribe had decided to raid a certain costal town.The pickings were rich and there would be plenty of opportunity for a young man to demonstrate his prowess as a warrior.Eagerly joining the raid with the other young men,he relished this as the day he would show the whole tribe his mettle.Maybe he would even catch the chief's eye and be made his retainer!

That very night the raiders swooped into the town's harbor in their longboats and jumped off,eager for the plunder and glory that soon be their own. Weilding their axes and screaming war cries,they greedily anticipated the spectacle of seeing the populace cringe and flee in terror.But even as the Great Serpents mounted by the two warriors leading the charge,hissed in an eerie chorus,their challenges were met with the disciplined tromp of boots marching. Moving to face the onrushing mass of raiders,was a sizable force of armed men streaming from a cluster of low,gray buildings. Obviously the town had been wise enough to hire well trained mercenaries to defend itself from raids like this. But it would matter not! These hired guard hounds didn't stand a chance against the valour of the young warriors of the tribe!

Howling his war song,Klanu called out challenges to the enemy rushing to meet them,searching for a foe worthy enough for him to take the effort to overcome. And instead found himself staring at a short little man dressed in bright grab rushing at him with his sword. Mystified at first by the runt's daring,than stifling a chuckle,Klanu swung his axe to face this unexpected adversary. He would knock the crazy little fool over the head with his axe handle,not too hard,just enough to knock him out cold. Then he would take his captive back with him to the longboats and show him off as as a prize he,Klanu,had rightly taken in battle. That would show his detractors what kind of a warrior he really was! He never expected the events that followed next.

Whirling like a brightly colored dust devil,the little man's blade easily ducked under his guard and begun striking him everywhere,inflicting wounds that while not serious,were just painful enough to make Klanu abandon all thought of taking him as a prisoner. Gnashing his teeth in rage,Klanu begun raining powerful,killing blows on the little demon that tormented him with his sting. But his foe dodged his broad,sweeping strokes with a quickness and grace that a dancer would envy. It wasn't long before he found sweat soaking his brow and his body wracked by the violent wheezes emanting from him. But his puny tormentor for his part,displayed no sign of fatigue and tirelessly continued his dance,all the while,opening new wounds on Klanu's body. Realizing that he had to end this fight before exhaustion forced him to drop his weapon,he made one final,desparate strike,hoping it would slay his doughty foe.

Only too see the little man's blade come up in a blinding arc of steel and cleanly lope of his axe head,before pressing itself against his throat. Throwing up his hands in defeat,Klanu felt shame coursing through him. How arrogant and deluded of him to think himself a great warrior when this little man that now stood pressing a blade against his throat,was unmarked by nary a wound. Yes,he had a long way to go before he could call himself a true warrior.

Around him,were strewn the corpses of his slain tribemates.He had been the only one to survive this battle. Even the Great Serpents had been dispatched,cut down by powerful crossbow bolts as they tried to save their riders. And this is the tale of how Klanu found himself in the service of the mysterious blade master. Tribal law demanded that a warrior defeated and taken alive instead of being slain,repay the debt owed to the victorious foe that had spared his life. This was done by pledging to faithfully serve the one that had defeated him for a period of 7 years,even if the foe did not need or want his service. Thus it was,that despite the fierce little man's astonishment,Klanu woved to serve him for the required 7 years.

He has been wandering with his ''master'' for 4 years now,sticking him to like glue,despite the swordman's best efforts to shake him off.And as his master now decides to investigate a mysterious occurance in a far off land,Klanu will accompany him to serve him best as he can.

Appearance:Like most men of his people,Klanu is a broad shouldered,lightly bearded man of average stature.His hair is styled in the great white spikes that the men of his people sport and the copper toned skin of his face is covered with the little blue tattoos of the tribe.The most striking thing about him however,are his eyes.As brown as a dog's and filled with the same soft and pleading gaze,they are a stark contrast to his otherwise warlike appearance. Perhaps aware of this,Klanu always carries a huge battle axe strapped to his back in true Snake Rider fashion.It also might be part of this effort to bolster his ''barbarian'' image that he insists on wearing an old seal skin tunic which reeks of the sweat it has absorbed over the years.His master has often wished that Klanu would burn it.

Personality:Due to his upbringing,Klanu is a soft spoken young man who comes across as being rather reserved. This sometimes deters people that would would like to strike up a conversation with him from doing so. It's not suprising then,that the only time he really seems to interact with others is when he eagerly volunteers to help them out with their tasks,especially his master. Sadly,this willingness to volunteer his help sometimes makes others think he is servile and eager to please,when all he wants is for them to like him. In fact,with some agressive indidviduals,this is a signal that he can be bullied and cowed into submission. It is a grave mistake on their part. Klanu does feel entitled to respect,the same as anyone and abusing his desire to help others can have serious consequences. He might endure treatment of this nature for a prolonged period of time,biting down on his anger,but evantually his Snaker Rider pride will manifest itself in a violent explosion.This makes him something of an emotional time bomb,one that only a fool would set off.

Skills:He is a fairly skilled fighter with his axe,as well as being a competent sailor. His true talent though,lies in his stirring recitations of traditional tribal tales and poems of war and honor that were passed on to him by his mother.

Additional facts:Given his barbarian background,Klanu is very superstious and may be spooked by things that the others in the party find perfectly mundane.He also has a great fondness for large snakes,having spent much time in the presence of the beloved Serpents of his people.This might upset some of his companions.

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Logged

“I'm yet another resource-consuming kid in an overpopulated planet, raised to an alarming extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue, poised with my cynical and alienated peers to take over the world when you're old and weak.” -Bill Watterson

I decided that posting the full character description I gave Shadoweagle would be a dead giveaway - thus, here, comes a shorter version, told from the viewpoint of Coram.

"I was a difficult child, and rightfully so - where I come from children born out of wedlock are frowned upon, moreso if they are pale like ghosts with vividly red eyes. Not even the fact that grandfather, a smith, gave mmother a nice dowry helped her to bond with a nice man - my stepfather left much to be desired for, and so did my siblings, his blood spoke true in them and their character soon showed its true colors.Only the fact that I was able to deal with animals well saved me from being cast out of home, let me tell you. Even today, I understand the mute faith in the eyes of a hound or sarcastic amusement in feline pools better than a rown upon a man's face.Back then, I'd have given limb and soul to be able to play with the other kids, or for an honest embrace, even a firm handshake for work well done was denied me.

Where was my father? I still do not know. I hope to find him someday, better sooner than later.

This went on until one day, a stranger came to the hamlet I lived in - tall, mysterious, always smiling. He did not buy anything except for renting a room and eating well, and all he did was watch the people ... especially me, as it seemed. I might have been nine or so back then.I was angry at him, more so every day. He even bribed my stepfather to be allowed to follow me around all day. All he did was stand there with that stupid grin of his.I don't know what went on my mind, except for coal hot anger, but I tried to kill him, throwing a bucket full of ice at him. He might have brushed it aside with his hand, yet despite his warrior reflexes, the bucket dodged. In mid-flight, I shaped my desire to see it in the midst of his face into reality... that was the first time I felt my talent. He went down, but did not stay so.Next day, he bought me.

Yes, he bought me, for a pouch of gold. Even if it was dung, stepfather would have sold me too.Not very delighted, I tried to kick him where it hurts, but ended up tied and hung over the saddle. After several failed attempts, I gave up and was finally allowed to ride on my own, untied.

After what seemed like an eternity, we arrived at a castle gloomy and dark, that was to be my home for years to come. It was Tyr Crom, the fortress of the hunters, as I was to learn. My captor? Owner? My uncle, as he revealed himself, Jared, was one of them. Now, they were no hunters of stag, deer or thrill and easy women. Their prey arre demons that stalk the night, whether mostrous of appearance or in human form. That night, I was given the choice of becoming one of them, or lead an ordinary life. Looking back at the life I had, the decision grew within me - ordinary life was something for ordinary people, not for red-eyes white devils like me. I nodded in approval.

A hunter does not live by the sword alone, he thrives on books and arcane lore as well - my day was, for the first time in my life, filled with someone taking care of me ... or at least being in my presence and reacting to it. Many of the elders were distant, yet Jared was close, and my pillar of hope when all seemed lost, my abilities insufficient and the pain too great. Yes, pain. While I might have had tendencies to grow swiftly and grow tall, that was not enough.. The Order uses brews to speed up the development of its charges, at all takes a tall. Some do not live through the treatment, some become crippled. Some live.

I did, and grew to what you see today: tall and sinewy, with no body fat. I might look like a skeleton, but do not let that belie you.Myhair I do keep long - vanity? Perhaps. It is certainly my only pleasant feature, white as snow and strong as steel wire.I prefer to dress in leather, for it is durable, does not soak easily, and blood is simple to wipe off it. All those belts and buckles serve to give me a sense of security... I need them to feel alright.To counteract the leather, and to keep my throat warm (my voice is rather rasping, deep and jhollow even without my throat being sore), I wear these scarves of mine. Red,one and all, softest wool.Yes, I go armed, these are the tools of my trade. A long sword and a short one, a light crossbow, that's all I need.And all those pouches? They hold the poison that keeps me going.

My companions always were few, for I do not cross the distance between people easily. No, I've never had a romantic interest. I wouldn't know how to step in a situation like that.My steed Rowan, my hound Timber and Sunfire, my dear hawk, are my travelling companions. Watch out, she kicks. Yes, the dog does bite. No, the hawk is not used to being handled by anyone else than me.I bite and kick for that matter too. Scared? *chuckle* I sleep lightly. Timber does not sleep at all, as far as my knowledge goes.

While I protect the common folk, I do so because they couldn't handle concepts such as 'unspeakeable utter evil from beyond time and space' without being reduced to gibbering wrecks. For that matter, they have problems handling concepts like 'using the latrine without s**tting all over yourself' as well. 'Thankfulness' is beyond them, honestly. You will have heard how in Clarond, they razed our castle and burned all us heretic witches inside during their holy revolution? Well, they burned an empty shell. No Hunter will ever step into Clarond since. Let them explain what they did to tentacle horrors intent on devouring their brains, not to us.

I am here to prove myself. Come along, or step aside.

Logged

"Captain, the buttocks are moving from the pink into the red and purple spectrum! We cannot maintain this rate of spanking any longer!"

Born the only child of a wealthy family, Mirani's childhood was much like any other young aristocrat's. Then her mother died when she was seven. As was to be expected, Mirani's father remarried soon, a young widow with a twelve year old son. There was some speculation about this, for Seto, the son, bore a startling resemblance to Mirani's father. Seto was always cold and distant from the rest of the family, including his mother. This was fine with Mirani; absorbed in her studies, the only one she ever really got along with was her father. She never knew what drove Seto mad. The beginning of the end was when her step-mother was found murdered in the garden. Her father held a lavish funeral, and may have even genuinely mourned. Mirani acted as was expected of her, but it was only a show of grief. The two of them had never gotten along very well. But during the funeral, she watched Seto, academically interested in his reaction. He seemed to have a secret smile on his face. Then Mirani's father was murdered in his own study. Two nights after the funeral, a fire was started in the manor, which quickly burned to the ground. So that left Mirani and Seto. Seto dropped all pretenses, and attacked her. He had spent a good portion of his life training to be a swordsman, while Mirani had spent her time with more academic studies. Fortunately for her, however, one of the servants came to her defense and killed Seto before he had done more than cut her face. Of course, the whole matter was hushed up. Shortly after that, Mirani left to continue her studies elsewhere, and vanished from public knowledge for ten years. When she returned, she had become quite skilled in the healing arts, the use of a sword, and evidently in the use of magic. She did not return to her family home which had been rebuilt, but traveled the kingdom. No one knows what it is she is searching for; she never speaks of that.

Mirani is a small woman, and is so fair that she is occasionally mistaken for an albino. She always dresses in white (which usually remains miraculously clean). An old, thin scar can be seen on one cheek, and she's usually wearing a pair of white gloves to cover the tatoo on her left hand. It's not so much that she is worried about the response she will get as she sees no reasons to reveal the fact. She very rarely shows any emotion, but will occasionally smile in a predatory way. People and animals seem to find her presence disconcerting, and there are vague and unpleasant rumors that tend to follow her around. However, her skills as a healer usually overcome any predjudice. Thus, she is not loved by any means, but she is welcomed.

Skills: Mirani is fairly good at fighting with her rapier, although she generally prefers less physical means. She is also very good at healing people, and the mortality rate among her patients is low enough to be astounding.

When she sees the need to use magic, it becomes evident that she is reasonably good at that as well, although she still has much to learn.

Reason for Being in Cuedrim: She heard about this mysterious forest, and has come to investigate, in order to find if there is anything that could be of use to her.

Appearance: Standing only 5'2 at 120lbs, Bryce's stature often causes people to underestimate him. His long red hair is tied into a ponytail that runs down his back. His bright blue eyes stand out, but his clothes are worse. He wears a multitude of bright colors, running the gamut from red to green to orange to purple and many others. The clothes themselves are loose fitting and made of lightweight cotton. He looks, to be quite frank, like he's lost his mind.

Personality: Bryce is very friendly and outspoken, never feeling it necessary to keep things to himself and so he has a habit of blurting out things when it would probably not be appropriate. Most people tend to view him as rather a pain. He actually enjoys being so small because it allows him the opportunity to show off his talents. He is very knowledgeable in a variety of subjects, though it comes off as no more than his being good at random trivia.

Background: Bryce was born to a minor nobleman and wife in the small island city-state of Derrim just off the coast of the mainland. He grew up as any other aristocrat’s child with all the best in schooling and luxuries. He learned mathematics and science, was trained in the arts of music and swordsmanship and even had a tutor in the magic arts, for a short time however, with Bryce having no magical talent the tutor soon left. In his mid-teen years, Bryce actually began his swordsman training. He began by learning a number of different forms and stances such as “Creeping through the Grass” and “Hawk’s Flight”. He began teaching himself to link these forms together, smoothly shifting from one to another in an intricate dance. His trainer and parents were astounded. They had never seen anything like it. At first, his trainer tried to discourage him from continuing it, by intending to beat it out of him, but when the trainer found himself seemingly attacked from all sides and unable to defend himself or press any form of attack, he surrendered and bowed to his own prodigy. Bryce has been practicing his “whirling dervish” swordplay ever since. Shortly after his 23rd birthday, Derrim came under sudden attack. A group of raiders from across the sea arrived in their longboats to pillage the city-state. Not willing to stand idly by, Bryce grabbed the finely-crafted sword his father had given him as a birthday gift and leapt into the fray. He danced his way across the beach, slicing into his opponents and hearing some fall, though never stopping his motion for even a second. He suddenly saw an axe-wielding warrior standing nearer the shore. He rushed the tall man, flashing into a series of forms quicker than thought. The warrior tried hitting him with the axe, but by the time the axe moved through where Bryce had been, he was already somewhere else, striking repeatedly. The warrior was soon covered in a series of small lacerations, blood trickling down his body. When the warrior brought his axe down in a final attempt to stop him, Bryce brought his sword up, slicing cleanly through the haft and placed the sword along the man’s neck. The warrior looked around, saw all his fallen comrades and suddenly dropped to his knees, declaring himself Klanu of the Snake Riders and claiming that he was now in debt to Bryce. Bryce, embarrassed by the strong fighter’s display wanted no part of it, but couldn’t get rid of him. It is now four years later and Klanu is still with him as they leave to investigate the strange forest they have heard of.

Itascia Jarnagua.Age: 22Height: 5'2Weight: 115Body type: Itascia is petite and very slender. Very agile and has almost cat like balance. Highly flexible. She has short blue black hair and light green eyes. Pale alabaster skin ( you can almost see the pale blue veins under her skin..but not in a creepy way).

Though relatively young, Itascia is skilled in herbal and medicinal healing, including minor surgery. Her father was a reknowned healer. He taught her well. Though Itascia's mother died when she was very young.Itascia is a traveler by nature. At one point her family joined an acrobatic troupe. Itascia learned the arts of tumbling and such. Even taking part in the illegal activities of the troupe.Being one of the smallest, Itascia often helped in breaking into houses and other buildings while the occupants were away watching the rest of the troupe preform.Itascia has some flaws though. Under going mood shifts. Being shy and skittish one moment, to daring and outgoing the next. Always ready for an adventure. Tends to have an unconcious habit of taking things that dont belong to her. She is a bit of a clepto...like kenders are.Itascia was seperated from the troupe on their way to another city. Itascia wound up in Cuedrim. And has decided to stay awhile. Figures the troupe she was with wound up in jail somewhere.Itascia tends to dress in garments that are more closely fitted. Not to show off anything, but to allow for easier movement such as tumbling and climbing. A vest, breeches, knee high boots, short sleeve half tunic and a few pouches. Carries a set of curved daggers. Is very profficient with them. They were apart of her act.

Appearance- Hashang is a well-built man in his late 30s. He has broad shoulders and muscular limbs, with large hands and feet. His skin is bronze-toned (Mediterranean in appearance). He is shaven-headed. His entire body is covered in swirling, complex tattooes in black and red; this partially conceals the Mark of the Sorceror which is tattooed on his hand, but this is not their primary purpose. In the land that Hashang comes from, these tattooes denote a proud lineage and the high status of his clan (kar). He wears little clothing- a pectoral of bronze and a black kilt that hangs to his knees, bangles of iron, black leather-strapped sandals, and a cloak of sable which he wears when the chill of these lands get to him.

Background- Hashang's homeland is a far southern nation, where the sun beats down like a god of fire upon the land. In Hashang's nation, the people dwell in various kar, clans, who are all said to have descended from famous heroes, retainers of heroes, rulers, or even gods. Hashang had the privelige of being of the nobility, of a kar of ancient dignity said to be descended from a god of war known as Kureshmu. When Hashang was born, he was shown to have the ability and apitude for Pure Magic that Kureshmu's bloodline was cursed with- he was branded with the Symbol For Exhibiting All Sorcery, the snake-fang tattoo that shows a sorceror. Hashang showed subtle skill as he grew older. He had a mind like a steel trap, and he learned the deepest of lores faster than his own tutors. He was known far and wide as the Pupil Who Was the Master, the boy who taught his teachers. But he was a strong-willed boy, given to large tantrums, deep rages, long grudges, and a brooding humor. He frequently abused the slaves of his clanhouse and was rude to his elders. Upon his 20th birthday, when, traditionally, he was accounted a man, a girl from the village went missing. Searches were made all about the village and the clanhouse. Fingers were pointed immediately at Hashang, and though he was not guilty, he was held to trial, and found guilty of causing the disappearance through his Magic (overlooked was the fact that his Magic had no capacity for this sort of work). He was exiled from his village, and marked upon his brow with the tattoo of a criminal exile. He was turned away from every village, and every city, and was eventually forced to flee the South, but not before he became well known as a bandit-king, commanding many brigands in raids throughout the desert. Hashang has come to the forest-plagued village for very simple and very frankly-stated reasons- he has come for whatever magic it is that lies in the forest. He needs it to regain his nationality. He burns for revenge upon the people who rejected him and hounded him, and seeks to take back his price, piece by bitter piece.

Skills and Abilities- Hashang is passable in the use of the curved sword of his people, the shliktmu, though he is by no reckoning a master. He is strong of arm and quick of foot. He has the ability to utilize Pure Magic, and thus can command objects to attendance, willing their movements, and can at times form a barrier of will against attack or movement, though these disciplines tire him quickly. Hashang is extremely knowledgeable in many fields, including Southern medicine (that is, the kind of medicine that is practiced in the South, including acupuncture, pressure points, body-energy areas, and blood flow. He knows nothing of surgeries, and sickens at the sight of blood), lore, histories (of Southern lands), and philosophy (especially where these concern religious theory)

"It isnt easy being a mercenary, people treat you like a necessary evil. Only marginally better than the criminals and the orcs and the barbarians that I protect them from. As usual, most people have it wrong. I am a mercenary, but I am not the piece of scum that they seem to think I am. I am not a criminal who decided to go legit, not a sellsword, or assassin for hire.

"For the most part I train militiamen. Young men and women who decide to take up the shield and the spear and protect their homes and their families when the lords of the land have decided that they are not worth having professional troops. Sometimes I train those same men and women when the lords call the levies and the conscripts. I try to teach these youths to keep their heads on their shoulders so that they will make back home alive, and not a miserable cripple, or a corpse.

"Sometimes when the coin is thin, I bounty hunt. Sometimes that earns a spit or two on the ground. Thieves and bandits are a common problem on the roads, and most locals know who they are. A gold piece for each bandit, a few more for the leader. I catch them, and bring them in for their own peers to judge and punish them. I am not a bloody handed killer, though I have taken lives."

Greyson, the only name he is commonly known by, is an average looking man, perhaps slightly on the tall side with strong shoulders, and shoulder length brown hair. Most of the time he keeps it back, tucked under a helmet or cloth. His eyes are a pale shade of blue that some think looks washed out, or having the same hue as ice. His face has been hardened by life, and while he can smile, he also has gained the detached 1000 yard stare. It is common among men and women who have witnessed terrible violence and carnage.

He is well equiped, a falchion sword on his hip, well worn but excellently maintained scale armor, and a battered but servicable shield. The heraldic symbol on the shield has been ground away by a determined hand, but the faint outline of a rampant (standing up) lion can still been seen. He carries a stout pack, with dried meat, hardbread and water. There are things a man can live without, but food and clean water are not those things.

Greyson gives alms to the poor when he has the coin, frequent the brothels and whorehouses, and is a close friend of the liquor bottle. His past is a ghost that he has worked hard to put back into its grave but it still haunts him from time to time. He wears a wedding band, as well as a signet ring of a fallen noble house a generation gone.

I guess that will only happen when Alec and me step in. Right now,the onus is on Alec to introduce himself. I being his faithful manservant,have to follow rather than take the lead.

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“I'm yet another resource-consuming kid in an overpopulated planet, raised to an alarming extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue, poised with my cynical and alienated peers to take over the world when you're old and weak.” -Bill Watterson

Yes, I am waiting on others to post, although I would have started in the next day or two in any case, even if they had not - and let them catch up. And by all means - interact with one another

Though I will note that real life does once more creep up behind me, threatening to overwhelm, as I delve into Further education for that, y'know, 'life' thing (I know, it sounds as strange as me as it does to you ) Even still, I'll try to focus to keep this game flowing.

I'm really sorry it took me so long to post and I apologize for holding everyone up. I just moved back into my dorm room, so this past week has been a little hectic with classes starting and all. I have however posted, finally, and I will do my best to keep up with everything from now on.

Post has been modified accordingly.---------------------------------------------Sorry, Echo - I have a few things set in mind. If you wish to change your own post to fit with the changes I have made in it - by all means. Only YOU know how your character would truly act.

AurakhOnce a child of the Yarang forest, Auraukh is a small man, no more than 5’ 7” tall, sinewy and bearded. His black hair has been gathered in a short pony tail and his beard has been cut an inch beneath the chin. He might have been a handsome man, had it not been for the unkempt hair and the grime on his skin, for he seldom groom himself. As for his nose; it is broad and arched and his are eyes large and brown. He carries himself with the grace of a hunting cat, silent, his eyes always alert for any signs of danger. While alertness is a common trait of the people of Yarang, his paranoid extreme is the result of his soldiering days; he was a scout in the Thimari-Kaneese militia during the Fang wars. The Thimari-Kaneese were eradicated in the battle of Hoyne Pass, a battle which only 30 members of the militia survived; their flight guided by the skills of a Yarang Tracker. Now the songs and legends tell of the battle, but according to these songs no Thimari was left alive, so Aurakh does not bother to tell the tale; no one believes him anyway.

In his youth Aurakh was taught, by his father, the skills of a tracker. Together they hunted in the wilds of Yarang for several years, his father passing on Yarang custom and secrets. His people believe that a hunter absorbs the first spirit he kills, and Aurakh’s first kill was a wild boar, pierced by an arrow at 200 yards; a great shot with his composite bow. The teeth of that boar was used when he crafted a leather necklace, and as the years passed by, more boar teeth were added, boosting his strength and spirituality. Still the first teeth are easily spotted due to the shamanistic runes carved into the surface.

Nowadays Aurakh wear the dark green cloak of a forester along with a long Yarangese hunting knife in his belt; its grip is made of leather bound Yarang Hardwood, the blade is made of solid steel taken from a fallen enemy during the Fang War and the sheath is made of quality boar skin. He uses no shirt or jacket, proudly displaying his boar teeth necklace and trusting in the cloak for warmth. A quiver of flight arrows can be spotted above his left shoulder and a composite bow with a handle of ivory is always in his right hand. On his feet are sturdy boots of hide and on his legs are brown cotton trousers. A sling bag holding fletching and butchering equipment, along with personal utilities, is hung across his back, on top of the cloak.

Aurakh has found his way to Cuedrim, brought by the tales of the mysterious forest. Among his people, whom he has not visited in several years, there are tales of the forest. In these tales the spirits of the woods are cunning creatures; sometimes benevolent, sometimes… not. Aurakh has come to carve for himself a part in the tale about this strange forest; a tale to surpass other tales, a tale that will allow him to return home, home to the forest of Yarang.

Skills: Aurakh is an expert tracker and accomplished at stealth. He is a great archer and masterful at butchering and slaughtering animals; the hides he sell has always demanded premium prices. He is also trained in fletching. His knife has been used in self defence a couple of times, but mostly for slaughtering animals. He is thus not a very impressive melee fighter, choosing instead to flee from such encounters, especially when the opposition is a trained professional.

Other: Ok, I will be joining this game. Personality will be described in gameplay, but it is well known that the people of Yarang does not talk much.

Sorry about not posting for so long, players. Real life has ensnared me in that I have enrolled into further education to become a chef.Additionally, the course I was GOING to do was part time, so i'd only be going one or two days, but now I've changed courses to a full-time one, which is four days a week, plus study and work inbetween. As such, this roleplay will probably be going a lot slower than I first anticipated. Please bear with me Thank you.

“I'm yet another resource-consuming kid in an overpopulated planet, raised to an alarming extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue, poised with my cynical and alienated peers to take over the world when you're old and weak.” -Bill Watterson

Grr! >< Im awaiting maggot and Alec to post before I move on! I have limited time to run this roleplay now, and I'd like to see everyone post in it so I can keep it moving when i AM able to get on, even if you all just manage to post a couple lines! Although this is going to be far slower and more relaxed than I had originally planned, I want to keep it moving, so anyone who hasnt posted since the assistant came out, POST!

Believe,me Shadow,I'd love to,but Alec has to make the first move,given the relationship between his charrie and mine. The moment Bryce goes to see the Mayor,I will leap into the Rp and begin posting.

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“I'm yet another resource-consuming kid in an overpopulated planet, raised to an alarming extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue, poised with my cynical and alienated peers to take over the world when you're old and weak.” -Bill Watterson

Er,Shadow,turns out that I need special permission to post in Moderated. can you help me out there?

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“I'm yet another resource-consuming kid in an overpopulated planet, raised to an alarming extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue, poised with my cynical and alienated peers to take over the world when you're old and weak.” -Bill Watterson